"Jut a nick from my hair-cutting efforts."
"You hair wasn't cut then."
He really was attentive to details. "I'd damn near slit my throat. I decided I should wait till morning." And other things had taken precedence.
"So instead of a trim, you chose to thump on me?"
Sitting still for so long didn't suit Gaby, not like this.
Not with a man.
Out in the open.
Pulling her legs up to sit Indian style, she struggled to get comfortable. "You got in my way that day. That's all."
"A deadly bad mistake, apparently."
His humor proved nearly as addictive as his kindness. "Anything else, detective?"
"Yeah, one more thing. But I doubt you'll want to cooperate, so I want your promise up front that you won't resort to violence."
"I make no promises." Gaby stared at him, waiting.
"Such a tough nut."
He didn't show any real concern for bodily injury, but he did hesitate, giving Gaby an unspoken warning that she wouldn't like his new subject matter.
"You told me your mother died birthing you. That lightning struck her."
"God Almighty." Before he could even think about stopping her, Gaby surged from the bench. "Are all cops as freakin' hard-hearted and intrusive as you?"
Uncaring whether he liked it or not, she began striding away.
But she couldn't stop the flow of words spurred on by ire. "Isn't anything sacred to you?"
"Gaby, wait."
"Fuck you, cop."
"I said wait, damn it."
"Why?" Walking backward allowed her to sneer at his face as she withdrew, "You want to dig up any other unpleasantness for me? Wanna talk about my years in foster homes, or how the other kids all hated me and called me a freak?"
"No." He looked annoyed with her.
"Why the hell don't you just poke me with a stick, you coldhearted bastard? What gives you the right to dig into my life anyway?" Because he was getting closer, she turned back around and lengthened her stride. "It's no wonder this town is in such sad shape when the cops waste time—"
A hand on her arm snatched her around. Luther had caught up quicker than she realized. She collided hard against his big, solid body.
Chapter Nine
"Why won't that cop just go away?"
The frustrated voice carried on the wind, but no one was around in the darkness to overhear. The cop and the very strange woman were several yards away, on the other side of the fenced playground, well out of range.
Almost impossible to see.
Even with the streetlamps shining down and a fat moon overhead, the night remained pitch black around every corner, behind every building and down every alley.
The hour grew late. The watchdogs grew tired.
This would be the perfect time to accomplish a great deal. There were things to be done, things with the failed test subjects.
And things with that girl.
But not while a law official lurked nearby, causing complications. If the police got suspicious and started snooping around, they could ruin everything accomplished through careful research, great risk, and enormous sacrifice.
Hopefully the girl would send the cop on his way, and soon. Burning the candle at both ends had a draining effect on even the most brilliant minds. Each day held so many responsibilities: working at the hospital, studying and tending the test subjects, getting rid of failed experiments, and following the girl.
Something had to be forfeited.
The girl, obviously, would have to go. Yet she was so fascinating…
"Maybe, just maybe," the doctor spoke aloud, "I need to get rid of the police officer first." Yes, that plan made sense. With the detective gone, everything would go smoother.
And that would leave the path wide open to get to the girl.
But how to do it?
Distracting the woman would be a problem, but thinking of the weaselly landlord… "Maybe it won't be an insurmountable issue at all." Everything needed was in quick supply, stored a short distance away—or right at hand.
Smiling, the doctor tugged on the length of rope, and got a groan in return. "Yes, I know. Not much longer now. I've just thought of a brilliant way to make use of you one last time. Your death will not be in vain. You will have another opportunity to atone for past sins."
An odd noise echoed out around the area; it was the doctor's laughter of eagerness and delight. But given the other night sounds, no one would pay any heed.
There were benefits to hanging in the slums.
The rope grew taut, then slack again with submission.
No one cared what happened or to whom it happened, and that made medical experimentation so much easier.
Before she could deck him, Luther said, "I'm sorry, Gaby." And he meant it.
But damn it, she tripped him up at every turn. What should have been simple became too complicated to unravel, especially when Gaby lost the belligerent aggression of a pit bull, and instead mirrored a small wounded female.
Once again a pit bull, she shoved him back. "Keep your hands to yourself, will you already?"
"Yes." But he knew he wouldn't. For whatever reason, he couldn't. "Will you let me explain?"
"Do I have a choice?"
He wanted to tell her that she did, but it'd be an outright lie. Much as he might sometimes dislike it, he was a detective, and that meant certain things had to be disclosed. "I'm trying to understand you, Gaby. Yes, out of personal interest, but also because as a cop, I've lived by my gut instincts much of my life. And alarm bells clamor whenever I'm near you. Something isn't right."
Her lip curled. "I told you. I'm a freak."
It wasn't easy to draw a calming breath, to keep from berating her over such self-inflicted castigation. "I asked about the death of your mother because I think it might explain a few things."
"Like my life?"
She was so hurt, so angry and antagonistic—and untouchable. The walls around Gaby weren't just sturdy; they were all but impenetrable.
As Luther was a male chauvinist of the first order, her barriers only made him more determined to get beyond them.
"Your life, and how that life might play into my perceptions now. You see, I researched lightning strikes and—"
Throwing up her arms, Gaby complained, "Oh God, you've got to be kidding me."
And oddly enough, it didn't seem a mere expletive so much as a rebuke. At who? "Lightning can affect all organ systems, sometimes in long-term or even lifelong ways."
In a huff, she examined a fingernail. "Fascinating."
Luther locked his back teeth. "It can cause all kinds of problems."
"Yeah, uh-huh."
"Nerve disturbances. Movement disorders. Dementia. Decreased—or increased—reflexes."
Her gaze swung up to his and she pursed her mouth, maybe to keep from laughing. "I get it. You think the way my mother died somehow explains what you saw when I laid out the bums by the bar?"
"How you move, yes. But also how antagonistic you often are, and why you looked… different when I first met you. The way your facial expressions, even your appearance, altered." Because he couldn't stop himself, Luther eased closer to her. "It seemed such a phenomenon, I figured there had to be a medical explanation, but I had no clue what it might be."
At the mention of her transforming countenance, Gaby froze up. "You've got a damn screw loose." Pointing a finger at him, she said, "Leave me alone. I mean it." And she turned to head back to her place.
"I can't do that, Gaby." Once again, he found himself following close behind her.
"Try." Shoulders tense and tread stomping, she kept on going.
Damned stubborn twit. "You're just digging yourself into a deeper hole."
"Go fuck yourself."